


Drop Dead Gorgeous

by eyemeohmy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Ficlet, Headcanon, M/M, Mild Gore, Needles, Present Tense, Sexuality, Squick, There's A Nerco Vibe Here, Vain Psychopaths, etcetcetc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rossum and Trepan relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop Dead Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> Old ficlet. Bit sloppy. Why _not_.

“You’re quite beautiful, you know,” Rossum purred, stroking the back of his needles tenderly down Trepan’s cheek.

Trepan smiled, yellow optics creasing in a gesture similar to the grin on his face. “Not as much as you, my dear professor,” he chuckled, one needle’s edge trailing down Rossum’s chest, tracing the top of a glowing stripe across blue abdomen.

“How about this,” Rossum hummed, and pinched the edge of Trepan’s chin between thumb and forefinger. A needle brushed feather-soft against a throat pump, another clicking against the bottom of Trepan’s right optic. “We’re both _exquisite_.”

Trepan shuddered, lips parting to press his tongue against Rossum’s thumb and the base of one thick needle. “Our beauty is matched only in our intelligence and skill,” he said, giving the thumb another lash.

Rossum groaned. He pulled Trepan’s face closer, their lips skimming. “I want to interface with you, body and mind,” he said, voice low and husky.

Trepan gave a shrill giggle. “As long as I get to clutch that pretty spark of yours and watch you squirm right after.”

Their lips brushed a second, then locked into a kiss; something deep, tongues intertwining, pushing, tasting; old energon and something spicy. They parted, venting, and Rossum said, happily, “It’s a deal.” He lowered his hand, letting it stroke Trepan’s hip. “As long as we—”

Trepan pressed a needle to Rossum’s lips. Its sharp edge accidentally catching his top lip, pricking it hard enough to draw a droplet of energon. “Say no more, darling,” he leered, “I know just what we need.”

Rossum smiled, licked the energon from his lips. Trepan took him into another kiss, catching the residual taste of the precious lifefluid.

Both scientists then looked to the massive corpse--their latest project--propped and strapped down in a large metal chair. Wires and cords still hung from his head, torn open and picked apart, connected to screens projecting static and playing scratchy white noise. His face was frozen in aghast horror, optics hanging by their nerves from bloodied, oil-caked sockets.

Trepan and Rossum looked back. Met gazes. Shit-eating grins, impish giggles. A second later, they were climbing onto the massive corpse’s lap, getting comfortable. Then: lips working heavy kisses, hands and needles stroking, prepping themselves for one hell of a good fuck.


End file.
